Rain and Memories
by StopTheWorldImGettingDizzy
Summary: This is definitely not what I'm used to writing, I'm normally an LL fluffer, so this is a new domain for me and I'd love to hear what you think. Rating a precaution. PLEASE REVIEW! "Because everything gets old after a time."


A/N: first: I do not own the characters.

second: this was written for the ficathon but I, being unable to connect with computers in any way, was unable to submit it properly. So this is actually the first time it is being posted online.

third: please please please review.

Everything gets old after a time. The shiny gleam of a brand new bicycle must eventually become rusted and dulled. Every child tires of their old toys as they move on to new things. After you've laughed uproariously at a joke you've never heard before, it's never funny in quite the same way again. NO matter how fresh, new, and excited anything in life may be, it cannot remain this way forever.

He knew this rule well. It had made itself apparent in his life and in the lives of those around him many times before.

He just never thought it could possibly happen with her.

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As the rain drizzles lazily down my windowpane, I get to being reminded about a man I once knew, and a day in his life- a rainy day, just like this one. The day when it was over. Just over. Forever.

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He had loved her for a very long time. He thought that the day he found out she loved him back was the happiest in his life. They were so clearly in love with each other. Nobody, themselves included, could think of any other couple _ever_ who had been more in love than they were. They married. And they lived in pure contentment for a time- no children, just them. They were happier than they had ever been in their lives.

But _everything_ gets old after a time.

The shift was the very essence of subtlety. It was like their relationship was one whole, constantly filled. In the beginning, and for quite a while, the whole was filled with love and caring. But then one day, in one moment, some small thing happened- some small, insignificant thing- which made the slightest little chip in the whole, and took away a minuscule little bit of love. And that tiny space in the whole was replaced by a tiny sliver of irritation.

Then, a while after, another small chip was taken out of the caring in the whole and replaced by a mite of annoyance. Then another bit, replaced by frustration, and another by impatience. And gradually, over the course of years, their relationship was slowly transformed, bit by bit.

And then one day he woke up and found he didn't love her anymore. Overnight, the last little speck of love had vanished- dissolved, perhaps, in the watery drops that ran down their bedroom window. And when that last speck had vanished, something astonishing had happened. Instead of the space in the whole being filled with another ugly emotion, _all_ emotions sidled out of the whole, and the relationship was empty. It did not exist anymore. Because the thing was, he had been made to love her. And once he could not love her, he could not feel anything for her.

He stared out at the rain. He knew it was time to leave. He got up and began to pack some necessary items. Other belongings could wait, for now he just needed to leave.

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_Why_, though?

He had loved everything about her. What had changed?

Well, he had. He had. His perception of her. _That_ had changed.

He had once loved her for her spontaneity. But after having been with her for this long, she had become predictable in her unpredictability. He had once gotten a _thrill_ being able to fulfill her wishes and quirky little needs, but now they seemed to make her selfish and insensitive. It was as though the lighting had shifted slightly, and everything that had been wonderful about her had crossed the border of light and dark, of qualities and faults.

As he was finishing up packing, she woke up and watched him wordlessly. He turned and met her eyes. They stared at each other without saying a word. Then he turned away, tossed a few more things into his suitcase, and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. She saw that her clock said 5:04, and she rolled over and closed her eyes. She could still get in a couple more hours of sleep before she had to get up for work.

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As though on cue, the rain stops just as I finish going over that story of the man I once knew.

My name is Luke Danes.

The man is me, and the story is of the deterioration of my relationship with Lorelai Gilmore, culminating on that rainy day on August 31st, 2017, exactly twenty years ago, after eleven years of marriage.

Because everything gets old after a time.


End file.
